


I Dream of a Hawk, I Dream of a Dove

by firenewt



Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Developing Friendships, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gift Exchange, Other, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 23:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20161783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firenewt/pseuds/firenewt
Summary: A critical few days for Elfe and Sephiroth, where profound and mystical experiences change their lives forever.





	I Dream of a Hawk, I Dream of a Dove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WandererRiha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/gifts).

> I chose the prompt "I am desperate for someone besides me and EchoThruTheWoods to create some Sephiroth/Elfe content. Anything. I don't care...." .... When someone says they are desperate, I pay attention! :)  
I hope this provides a bit of enjoyable relief, such as it is!
> 
> The quote that Elfe uses is from "The Rubayyat of Omar Khayyam".
> 
> I referred to the Ten Sefirot of the Kabbalah and the Book of Revelations, as well as what is happening to our own planet today, for much inspiration.
> 
> I also read WandererRiha's work as part of my research, since Elfe is a new character for me, and I highly recommend it! :) 
> 
> Disclaimer: Thanks to Square Enix for letting me play in their universe.

The transport hit another bump and everyone and everything in the back became momentarily airborne before thumping down again. There was a chorus of curses and grumbles. The enclosed space in the back of the truck smelled of sweat and smoke and, somewhere, someone had stepped in dog poop and brought it in with them. Elfe was feeling rather nauseated by it all: the stink, the rough road, the exhaustion, and the failed mission. The other members of AVALANCHE were feeling much the same, judging from their drawn faces and choice words. She shut her eyes and tried to ignore her surroundings. Her hand was throbbing in time with her heartbeat, and she felt a painful tightness in her chest that often accompanied exertion or stress, and it contributed to her queasiness. 

They were lucky to get out alive. The plan to infiltrate and blow up the mako reactor in Sector 8 had started off well; things were proceeding according to plan until one of those nasty, slimy Turks had appeared out from nowhere and pulled Eitan aside to question him. Elfe swore that Turks had some ability to mind read; Eitan was one of the calmest, most easy-going and non-threatening men she had ever met. He blended in perfectly with the Midgarians, being originally from the city himself; she didn’t know what set the Turk’s alarm bells off. They had thought they were in the clear: the Turk had let Eitan go, they had proceeded, thinking all was well, entered the reactor, and were about to start placing explosive charges when the Turk reappeared, this time with a buddy, the one with the shockingly red hair, and all hell had broken loose. AVALANCHE had scattered in all directions like cockroaches trying to escape the light. Shears gave them cover, taking on the Turks one at a time, and somehow managing to hold both of them off long enough for the rest of the group to vacate the reactor before he disappeared into the dark himself.

Shears, her second-in-command, and from Midgar, as well, had caught up with them just as they were piling into the old transport truck that had been waiting for them as a getaway vehicle. He had jumped into the back as they pulled away, slammed the door closed and immediately fallen over someone’s leg, spraining his wrist. Elfe opened one eye and peered through the dimness, checking on everyone. Shears saw her glance and grinned, pushing his long hair out of his eyes and wincing as he forgot about his wrist and hurt it again. 

“How did you manage to get away from two Turks without a scratch and then get hurt in here?” she grumbled good-naturedly. 

“Not without a scratch,” Shears corrected her, pulling up his shirt to show her the bruises mottling his torso, and a long gash on the underside of his left bicep. “But it could be worse!” 

“If you would cut that damn hair of yours you’d be able to see where you’re going and you wouldn’t have tripped.” It was a long standing argument between them. Shears refused to cut his luxurious brown mane, preferring to keep it off his face with a bandana, or tie it all back, but somehow it still managed to escape and end up hanging in front of his eyes.

“And if you’d stop wearing that god-awful white towel you call a cape, you wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb and make us all targets, nevermind yourself!” he shot back.

“It’s not a cape it’s a cloak. And it’s warm.” She pulled it more tightly around herself. 

“Get a jacket, like the rest of us!”

“I’ll wear what I want!” 

Shears eyed her as she huddled against the side of the truck, her right hand still glowing a faint blue-white after the battle and escape from Midgar. He knew her hand had been implanted with a piece of the Zirconiade materia, and that a lot of her strength came from that. It gave her incredible bursts of energy, but afterward she tended to be drained and cold and require time to recover. It also added to her abilities to command and to execute their objectives, so he was not complaining, but he often wondered if the cost the materia exacted was worth it. Also, the thought of having something like that, especially a Summon materia, stuck in his body gave him the willies. It was a purely visceral reaction and he didn't want to let his discomfort make Elfe self-conscious, so he kept it to himself and tried not to let it show.

However, he couldn’t let the cape thing drop quite yet. “I object to capes in general,” he said. “No capes! They get caught on things, and prevent you from moving easily in a fight! And white is a stupid colour. It’s too easy to see.”

“No one’s asking you to wear one,” Elfe said. “Besides, you couldn’t carry it off. You don’t have the flair.”

There were a few scattered chuckles. “I have flair! I flair all over! I’m a regular Genesis Rhapsodos!” Shears responded indignantly.

“Genesis wouldn’t be caught dead in a white cape,” someone stated definitively.

“Genesis also wouldn’t be caught dead with dog shit on his boots,” another voice growled. “Whoever brought that in here is going on latrine duty until they learn where shit belongs!”

“Aw, give’em a break,” Eitan said amiably. His sandy blond head stood out in the dimness because of its light colour and because of the fact that he was taller than most of the others. “Dog shit’s impossible to avoid in Midgar.”

“Yup,” Shears agreed. “Nature of the beast, so to speak.”

The truck hit another rough patch and they all flew into the air again, grabbing for whatever they could hold onto. Elfe’s head smacked the side of the truck as she came down, and she saw stars.

_my dear my daughter it is time your strength is needed_

The ground was shaking, the sky was shaking, she was shaking, and then the earth slid sideways and she fell, sliding with it as it dropped out from under her. A series of sharp reports split the air and the area around her fractured. She threw herself backward as a crack in front of her widened and ran away into the distance, like a seam splitting and opening. Steam rose from inside the fissure and the air became hard to breathe, hot and thick and burning her eyes and throat and lungs. Her fingers scrabbled in the dirt, trying to find something to hang onto, but the earth heaved again and she lost her purchase and was sliding away, feeling as if her head and chest were about to burst open like the ground.

“Elfe? Elfe!” Someone was shaking her shoulder and she blinked, trying to clear her vision. It seemed too dark and the sparkling was slow to fade.

“M’okay,” she mumbled. “Tired.”

“Okay,” Fuhito, the other of her commanders, said doubtfully, but he backed off. “Rest, then. We have time.”

She closed her eyes gratefully and, cradling her hand in her lap, slept.

It seemed like just a few moments later when Fuhito shook her awake again. The doors of the transport were open, and it was daylight. Fresh air flooded in and the other members of AVALANCHE were hefting their equipment and jumping out. They had made it to their rendezvous point some miles outside of Junon Port; Elfe could smell a slight tang of salt in the air, as the breeze blew in from the ocean. It cleared her head. She felt refreshed and ready for the day. As the others sorted themselves out and got food and water, she joined Shears, Fuhito and Eitan. It was time to regroup and decide what their next move would be. 

**************************

Sephiroth stood against the wall in Lazard’s office, listening to the briefing. It seemed that some eco-terrorist group called AVALANCHE (catchy name, though no one seemed to know if it actually stood for anything) had been making a nuisance of itself lately. It was not uncommon for disgruntled factions to make their displeasure with Shin-Ra known, in various ways, some more violent than others. Rarely did anything come of the sporadic protests and assaults on people and property. But what made this bunch different was that they were organized and efficient and had a focused purpose. They had legs, as the saying went. And they had started to cause uneasiness and unrest as their message got out. More people were listening. And when they started to hit more important and visible targets, their profile became even higher. Yesterday they had actually made it into the Sector 8 reactor. If not for a chance encounter with a Turk who had become suspicious and followed them, the company would be having a very different type of damage control meeting today.

The President was livid. The heads of SOLDIER; the Department of Administrative Research; R&D and PR were all present, as was the Vice President, who was acting as his father’s proxy and ripping a strip off of everyone. After the dressing-down would come the arguing, the shifting of blame, and finally the strategizing. 

Sephiroth was attending as one of the highest ranking SOLDIERs: Genesis and Angeal were deployed elsewhere at the moment, so he had no choice. He tried to stay focused but his attention kept wandering, not that one would know by looking at him. He folded his arms and appeared to be watching the scene playing out in front of him. In reality, he was thinking about the fact that it was Taco Tuesday in the mess today and was it worth joining the melee for a taco or should he just go out and buy his own. Or order one delivered. He didn’t want to appear standoffish, not eating with the other SOLDIERs, and he _did_ like tacos, but he didn’t care for close crowds and people staring at him, so… what to do? 

The arguing voices rose and fell and suddenly Sephiroth felt like the room was tilting. He flung his arms out to the sides, bracing them against the wall. The floor rippled and he just managed to keep his balance as it cracked in front of him, and everyone and everything disappeared into a gaping chasm. He clung to his perch as the tower wrenched back and forth like it was a rope toy being played with by a Guard Hound, and the structure shredded around him. The noise was deafening, not just the shriek of the metal and concrete as it tore itself apart, but there was a deeper, inhuman roaring and groaning that he felt in his bones more than heard with his ears, as the very earth ripped itself apart. He could see a bright glowing thread far, far below, and a sour stench filled his nostrils as hot gusts rose from the depths, making him gag. 

_my rock my love let go let go come to me your aid is needed_

“Sephiroth?”

Panting, his eyes focused on Lazard, who was peering at him from across the room. He could see the puzzled expression on the Director’s face, and the concern that he was trying to hide. Slowly, he peeled himself off the wall and stood up straight, schooling his face into his usual neutrally aloof expression. 

“Did you have something to add, General?” Lazard asked, carefully. The room was silent as everyone stared at him.

“No,” Sephiroth said calmly, though he had no idea what he was being asked to comment on. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.” And he turned and left the room, his back rigid, just wanting to get out of there as fast as possible without drawing any more attention to himself. His stomach told him in no uncertain terms that it did not want a taco today, or anything else for that matter, and so that decision was made for him, as well.

**************************

AVALANCHE specialized in guerilla warfare. Their actions normally consisted of small raids here and there, then randomly hitting bigger targets. It kept Shin-Ra off balance and did much to encourage and hearten the grassroots support from the general population. But they had a much more complex, daring and risky idea that had been in the hatching stage for months while it was slowly discussed and refined. Elfe, Fuhito and Shears had hammered out details and laid the base while waiting for an opportunity to implement it with a maximum chance of success. Finally that time seemed to have arrived. 

The original plan had been to infiltrate Junon and seize control of the mako canon there. The huge weapon’s massive energy blasts could cover enormous distances; they would use it to threaten and destroy Shin-Ra’s home city of Midgar, and get the company to capitulate to their demands. However, a new piece of intel had recently come their way: the President of Shin-Ra would actually be present in Junon in two days, as part of a political glad-handing visit, and would give a televised speech from there. Of course, security in the city would be greatly enhanced, but if they attacked at that time, they would certainly have the element of surprise. And if they managed to capture or kill the President, it would be well worth the increased risk. It was a big decision to make: was the time ripe now, or should they wait?

They didn’t have unlimited resources, including manpower. If they wanted to carry out this mission, they would need more people. While Elfe weighed the pros and cons, Eitan was sent to bring the rest of the AVALANCHE members from Fort Condor. It wouldn’t be long before the entire group was together, and, if Elfe decided to proceed, the operation could be put into play. 

Eitan took one of the transports and trundled off into the distance. Shears coordinated setting up a minimal camp behind some low hillocks, far enough away from Junon that they were not in danger of being seen, and far enough off the main roads that they would not be noticed. Since the weather was clear, they could just see the tops of the city’s tallest buildings in the distance and the haze of the ocean behind them. In the opposite direction was Fort Condor, out of sight but less than a day away. 

While she pondered things, Elfe took the opportunity to rest and to spend some time alone. It wasn’t often that she got to do either, and she appreciated the opportunity. Fuhito fussed at her for not allowing an escort to hover near her at all times, and then fussed at Shears for not backing him up about it, and then fussed at his assistant as they went over the specs for the canon again and again. 

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack, man. Leave off with that sciencey stuff for a while and relax,” Shears said, clapping him on the shoulder, which he knew Fuhito hated. The smaller man did not appreciate being touched, especially in such a familiar fashion, and his black hair practically bristled in annoyance, like an angry cat.

Fuhito pushed Shears roughly away and smoothed his jacket fastidiously. “Would you rather I just play it by ear, like _certain_ people do?” he snapped, his dark eyes flashing behind his glasses. “That’s not a slingshot out there, if you hadn’t noticed! We could blow _ourselves_ up instead of Midgar! We might as well just march straight in carrying big signs that say ‘shoot us we don’t know what we’re doing’!”

Shears paused. He had been ready to walk away after his little verbal jab, but Fuhito had now pushed his buttons. He had never liked the Wutaian; something about his furtive manner created suspicion in his mind, and now his senses were on high alert. “No one’s going to know what we’re there for,” he said, dropping his joking manner. “No one’s going to even know we’re there at all. Unless someone _lets_ them know. Are you planning to send Shin-Ra a ‘big sign’? Hm? Do you have a buddy in Junon who would _love_ to know you’re coming to visit?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Fuhito scoffed. “I don’t know anybody in Junon!” 

Shears waited, staring at the scientist with narrowed eyes, and Fuhito started to get a bit flustered. He swallowed nervously, and his forehead became a bit moist.

Several people had stopped what they were doing to watch their commanders bicker. Entertainment was one thing, but dissension between their leaders was another. Shears stepped in close and grabbed Fuhito’s jacket in both fists, lifting the smaller man up on his toes. “Listen, you four-eyed excuse for a mealy worm, you do your job and let us do ours. And if you do _anything_ that puts any of us in danger, if you even _think_ of ratting us out, I’ll personally pull your intestines out through your belly button. Got it?” he whispered harshly.

“Let me go!” Fuhito snarled, his hands pulling ineffectually at Shears’ wrists.

“Let him go,” a soft voice echoed, and Elfe put her hand on Shears’ shoulder. “The last thing we need is to give anyone doubt that we’re all on the same page here. Don’t fuck with morale.”

Shears gave Fuhito a last little shake and let him go. He badly wanted to shove the man away, but for the sake of those watching, he made it seem like it was just a minor kerfuffle. In the same movement he sidled out from under Elfe’s touch, not being too obvious about trying to avoid contact with the hand that contained the materia. Elfe didn’t seem to notice. She was happy enough to step away as they all disengaged. “Now shake hands. Make it look good.”

The two men pasted totally fake smiles on their faces and shook. Briefly and hard. 

“Excellent. Fuhito, carry on with your preparations. Shears, you, too. And no more of this. We’re on the same side, remember?”

“Yes, ma’am!” they chorused, and turned away to their tasks. Elfe watched them go for a minute, and then waved casually to the small group that had gathered. “As you were!” she smiled, and they jolted back to work. 

Elfe sighed. Such touchy men! It wasn’t easy being commander and babysitter at the same time, but she needed both of them and their talents, and so did AVALANCHE.

_yes we do_

Elfe looked around. No one was near her. And who would make a comment in response to thoughts that she hadn’t spoken out loud, anyway? Maybe she was going crazy, talking to herself. It wouldn’t be a surprise. But she needed to hold it together until they accomplished their goals. She had three good men under her, but none of them was capable of keeping the group unified and leading it. If she had to step down, AVALANCHE would fragment, each man taking those loyal to him, and while they might continue to harass Shin-Ra with guerilla tactics, they would be a minor aggravation. The impetus for Planet-wide revolution and change would be lost. 

_not an option_

Elfe smacked herself on the head, hard. No, it wasn’t an option, but hearing a confirmation of her thoughts did not help! Maybe a walk would clear her head and settle her mind. 

She headed east, slipping away before Fuhito could send a guard after her, then circled around toward the south so she would ultimately end up back at camp. Pausing, she sat for a while hidden in the long dry grass, feeling the wind sush around her. The earth was cool under her hands as she dug aimlessly through the mat of dried plant material to the soil below. A beetle crawled onto her finger; she lifted it and let it step off onto the stem of a teasel and then stood, brushing off her butt.

When she looked up, she saw a dark smudge on the horizon, where Fort Condor lay out of sight. The smudge quickly ballooned into a billowing black and grey plume, growing bigger and getting higher in the sky. At the same time she could feel a slight tremor in the ground beneath her feet. Bright red-orange sparks were flying into the air and highlighting the area under the cloud. The plume continued to stream upward into the sky and also outward, flowing along the horizon in all directions. As it headed toward her, a thunderous boom split the air; a shock wave hit her like a giant hand just before the sound and knocked her down. 

_daughter time is short lend me your sword cut loose the chains that bind cleanse me in righteous flame and fury_

The voice Elfe had heard before filled her head. She heard it inside her brain and in her ears and in her body where it touched the ground. Her hand was hot and glowing and a sharp pain lanced through her heart. Stunned, she lay there for a few seconds, trying to make sense of things, then climbed to her feet. Logic kicked in. Her brain ignored what she was sure was an auditory hallucination; she could deal with that later. The immediate danger was blossoming into the sky like an immense fiery flower. The first thing she thought of was that the mako reactor below the Fort had exploded, but this seemed too big for even that. Perhaps the mountain itself had exploded… as far as she knew, the area was not volcanically active, but extinct or dormant volcanoes had been known to wake up unexpectedly. And no one had studied the long-term effects of a mako reactor near a volcano. In any case, the dark clouds of debris were quickly spreading out over the plains. Turning, she started to run back to camp, although she wasn’t sure what they could do. Hopefully they would be far enough away to not be badly affected, but she still had to warn them!

Fuhito looked up as she came pelting back, looking like the very Hounds of Hell were pursuing her. He saw Shears drop the hammer he was using to pound tent pegs and run toward her… they all converged at the same time. 

“Fort… ‘splosion… cloud…!” she gasped, bending over with her hands on her knees.

“Say what?!” Shears turned toward the Fort’s direction. He saw nothing. He dashed to the transport, jumping into the back and then back out again carrying a pair of macrobinoculars. Slinging them around his neck, he climbed up the external ladder to the top of the truck and stood on it, using them to examine the horizon. 

“Get everyone to shelter!” Elfe panted, pushing at Fuhito. “Never mind me! Get them under cover! Try to contact Eitan! They must be right in the middle of it!”

“Alright, alright!” Fuhito was about to give orders for everyone to take their equipment and seek shelter when Shears jumped down off the truck and trotted back to them. “Nothing,” he said. “The sky is clear. I can’t see all the way to the Fort, but there’s still a really good line of sight in that direction. Everything’s clear.”

“That can’t be!” Elfe couldn’t believe what he was saying. “I saw it with my own eyes! I know an explosion when I see one!”

Shears and Fuhito looked at each other. “No one’s saying you don’t,” Shears said soothingly. “But maybe you saw a flock of birds or something…?”

“I know what I saw!” Elfe said angrily, and grabbed the binoculars from him, running to the transport and climbing up on it herself to look. Shears followed and stood on the ground below, his forehead wrinkled with worry and bemusement. Fuhito decided it would be a good idea to check on Eitan anyway, and busied himself with his communicator.

Elfe let the binoculars fall to her chest and stood looking at the sky with her naked eyes. It was all clear, as Shears had said. Slowly, she climbed back down. Shears steadied her as she stepped off the rear tire. “I don’t understand,” she said blankly. “There’s nothing there. It was a huge bunch of clouds. It couldn’t have dissipated that quickly.”

“Maybe it was birds,” Shears repeated, steering her toward the little tent that was set aside for her use. “Maybe the sun got to you and your eyes were playing tricks on you. Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought in the truck.”

“I’m fine!” Elfe snapped. “My head is fine!”

“Okay, okay!” Shears said, putting up his hands in surrender.

“Eitan says they’re all okay!” Fuhito called, coming towards them. “All good! They’re on their way back. And, um… no report of any explosions in the area.” He stopped a few feet away, staying out of Elfe’s reach as he made his report.

“Why don’t you-“ Elfe whipped aside the tent flap and disappeared inside. If one could have slammed a fabric door, she would have. “…lie down for a bit?” Shears finished. He and Fuhito stood in silence for a few seconds. 

“Well!” Shears shrugged. “Guess we better finish getting things set up, if Eitan’s going to be here soon.”

“… right,” Fuhito agreed.

**************************

Sephiroth took another sip of his ginger ale and made a face. He wasn’t a fan of carbonated drinks, but ginger ale _did_ calm his tummy and his nerves. He had retreated to his quarters after his little episode in Lazard’s office, cracked open a cold one, and held the can to his cheeks, cooling them down. He wasn’t certain what had happened, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to know. He wondered how much Lazard or anyone else had noticed, and if he should report to Hojo about it.

Sinking down on his couch, he sipped, and thought, and sipped, and decided that he wasn’t going to do _anything_ at the moment. Some peace and quiet was what he needed. Yes. That was it. He needed a break from everyone yattering at him and demanding things of him and looking to him to solve their problems, or at least listen to their banal concerns and pretend like he cared. He had a sinking feeling that whatever was being discussed and decided upon at the briefing would soon involve him, one way or another. He would stay put and enjoy his alone time while he could.

Reaching down, he retrieved the remote and the controller from where he had last left them on the floor and settled deeper into his sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table. Playing _Angry Chocobos_ was always a good escape.

The problem was that, while he played, his mind tended to switch into autopilot. While part of it focused on the game, another part would float around in freefall. This could be useful, when he had some deep thinking to do, but sometimes he would be ambushed with thoughts and feelings and memories that he would rather stayed well buried, and that was neither helpful nor pleasant.

So, as his eyes tracked the graphics and his hands deftly operated the controls, he was busy trying to forget what had just happened, while trying to remember the details of what had been discussed in the briefing. Terrorists in the city were no small matter, and it would be nice to be able to wipe them out in one go, rather than have them continue to nibble at the edges of the company’s interests and be a continuous irritant. Such partisans caused minor damage but still took resources and effort to deal with when those could be better spent elsewhere. Also, the PR was not good. No, sirree, bub! Even small successes at challenging the company’s authority would encourage others to do the same, and gradually the foundations of absolute power that had been carefully constructed over time would start to crumble. It was part of Sephiroth’s job, as one of the most visible and recognizable symbols of that power, to maintain those foundations. 

It was yet another responsibility on his shoulders. It would be one thing if he had applied for the job, knowing what it would entail. It was another to just be expected to do it, regardless of how he felt about it. Sephiroth mashed the controller hard, yanking it slightly from side to side in response to movements on the screen. He really had no idea why he was so unhappy lately, so impatient and discontent with his life. Maybe he needed a holiday. Genesis would say he needed companionship. He snorted. No, having yet another person to accommodate and please definitely did not appeal. If he was a normal person… again, he snorted… he would ask for a transfer, or quit and look for another job. Just up and leave, move to a new city, start a new life, take a year off and travel the world with nothing but a backpack and a vague idea of which direction to walk when he woke up in the morning. He could feel himself frowning. Consciously he opened his mouth as far as it could go and stretched his jaw around, loosening the tense muscles so that his face felt less tight and miserable. At this rate he was going to have permanent grooves as deep as Cosmo Canyon on either side of his mouth by the time he was thirty.

Maybe a spa day would help a little. Maybe he should sneak some of the special brownies that always seemed to be available somewhere in HQ, and see what their appeal was… if his system was affected at all. He sighed despondently. 

On the television screen, _Angry Chocobos_ were running around, looking like they were on their way to war. The Player Chocobo he controlled was dodging and weaving and jumping, everything going faster and faster, and more and more birds appeared, trying to take his chocobo down. Concentrating, he wondered vaguely how high the score on this thing would go. He almost wasn’t blinking anymore, his eyes fixed on the screen so that he wouldn’t miss even the slightest maneuver. 

The birds kept coming and coming and suddenly they were coming right at him, and he could hear the thunder of their feet, and smell the dust they kicked up, and the barnyard aroma of a whole herd of chocobos running full tilt toward him, surrounding him, and then they were _there_, running flat out, pounding past him, coming so close that their feathers brushed him. He couldn’t move without getting trampled. At least if he stayed still they would probably be able to avoid him in their mad rushing around. 

Now he could smell smoke, too, wood smoke, and ash clogged his nose along with the dirt kicked up by the birds. His eyes stung and he tried to protect his face with his arm. The stampeding flock finally passed him and he was left staring back the way they had come. An orange wall of fire stretched across the grassland, with dark smoke billowing above it. He could see sparks flying and new flames sprouting where they landed, adding to the inferno. The dull roaring of the fire sounded like a huge monster’s breathing as it came closer and closer. 

Now that the birds were gone he could see other animals also running frantically from the fires: deer, coyotes, rabbits, mice, even some birds trying to fly ahead of the flames, fighting their way through the unpredictable air currents that the fire created. Their tiny lungs struggled with the searingly hot air and ash and some of them dropped out of the sky to their deaths even as he watched. The same happened with the animals on land. Either they were overcome with exhaustion and fear, or couldn’t breathe anymore; they collapsed or just stopped and the flames ate them up. 

His sensitive hearing could hear their tiny screams, and it seemed to him the very earth was crying out, and he clapped his hands over his ears, wanting to scream himself. He turned and ran with the animals, lungs burning, unable to think of how he might somehow escape before the flames caught up with them all.

_my son my son my children are dying they suffer be their shield shelter them protect them lend your grace that not one more will die in terror_

Gasping, Sephiroth found himself slid off the couch and onto the floor, the controller fallen beside him and _Game Over_ flashing on the screen, a sad mooping sound accompanying it. What the actual hell! He must be more in need of a holiday that he thought, if he was getting so caught up in a game that he imagined being part of it! And what was this nonsense about saving lives! That was nowhere in the game, he only had to save his own life! And it was nowhere in his subconscious, he was sure. He was a weapon of war, of destruction, not a protective shield! What utter bosh! 

Shakily, he reached for his ginger ale, drained the can, and then pushed to his feet, heading to the bathroom and shedding his clothes along the way. The stink of smoke and burning meat stuck in his nostrils; logically he knew the air in his quarters was as clean and fresh as always, but he desperately needed a shower to try to wash the smell and sensations away.

**************************

All the members of AVALANCHE were reunited. Eitan had arrived with the remainder of the men and women. Each commander now had a group of ten under him, and each group was billeted slightly separately from the rest. Elfe circulated amongst all of them, greeting each one, asking after injuries and making sure that everyone had what they needed and was as comfortable as possible. The personal touch was one of the things that made her a good leader. Her people knew she cared about them as individuals, not just as disposable units, and the sense of loyalty that went both ways strengthened their resolve and commitment to their cause. 

The commanders met outside of Elfe’s tiny tent. Fuhito ran through a brief overview of the schematics of the mako canon. He and his assistant Meg, a tall spare woman with sable skin, were both well versed in how to operate it, and would be in the group that infiltrated the canon installation. Shears and Elfe had also been taught, but they were not the experts; they would be back-ups, in case the others were unable. No one mentioned that that would most likely mean the others were incapacitated or dead. Everyone understood that each mission might be someone’s last.

Shears and his urban fighters would be disguised as Shin-Ra troops. They had collected enough stolen uniforms (partial and whole) to pass casual inspection as the real deal. They would clear and hold the streets immediately around the canon installation, keeping anyone from entering the building, and giving warning if there were any problems. 

Eitan’s group had the most dangerous job. They were to take over the hotel that the President would be staying in and capture him, or, at the least, prevent him from getting to the nearby conference centre and making his planned announcement. As a hostage he would be invaluable. Security in and around the hotel would be tight, though, and they would have to work quickly and ruthlessly to achieve their goals.

Fuhito had intercepted transmissions that confirmed the President was en route to Junon, and his appearance on television was still scheduled. Eitan had checked and distributed supplies: everyone was properly armed with functional weapons, and each group had its supply of flash bangs, grenades, tear gas and communicators. There were only a limited number of flak jackets, and they went to the people who were taking point. Shears had contacted their safe house in the city, and made sure that the routes in were clear and that their two exits points were secure. There would be a boat waiting for them if they needed to escape via water; otherwise two transports would be ready to evacuate them via land. Everything was in place. They had made as many contingency plans as possible. Now they squatted around a map of the city spread out on the ground; if they were going to proceed, it had to be tomorrow.

Elfe looked from face to face. “Well?” she said. “Any last thoughts? Concerns?”

Eitan rubbed his nose. “We’ll catch ‘em off guard right the now. They won’t be ‘spectin’ another major raid so soon after t'one in Midgar. And they won’t ‘spect us t’have the balls t’try anythin’ while the Prezzy’s there.”

Shears nodded. “There is that,” he said, grabbing his corner of the map as the wind flapped it up, and kneeling on it to hold it down. “If we’re going to change our minds, it has to be now. I’ll have to get word to our allies in the city to stand down.”

“But we’ve made all the preparations!” Fuhito exclaimed. He seemed agitated, adjusting his glasses so they sat more comfortably behind his ears. “And the weather is perfect! It’s an ideal time to get a clear shot at Midgar, with no interference!” 

Elfe tilted her head, considering him. He was one of her oldest and most trusted friends, and she was confident that he shared their commitment to freeing the Planet from Shin-Ra’s grip. Reasonably confident, she amended reluctantly. Sometimes he seemed to be more concerned with some personal agenda and with his beloved technology, losing sight of the big picture. “Is it worth it?” she asked softly. “There will be other opportunities, most likely. We might have to wait, but… is it worth pushing ahead right now? How many lives might we lose, walking into the jaws of Leviathan?”

“The cause is just,” Eitan stated firmly. He had no doubts.

“We’ll lose good people no matter when we move on this,” Shears said. He met Elfe’s eyes steadily. Having been sole commander of his own band of insurgents before joining forces with AVALANCHE he knew the heavy responsibility that sat on her shoulders, and the burden a leader bore when anyone was injured or lost. “It’s your call,” he said, not unkindly.

Elfe looked at the map again, reaching to touch the crinkled paper on the place where they were currently camped, and then tracing her finger over to the canon on the city’s coastal boundary. This was a street map of Junon and the immediate surrounding area, so it didn’t show Midgar, but that didn’t matter. In her mind’s eye the larger city sat on the plains to the northeast like a festering boil, surrounded by putrid swamp and dead wasteland. 

As she stared down, thinking, her perspective was suddenly swooping up and up and then her vision telescoped, and it was like she was hovering outside of Midgar instead of hundreds of miles away. The edges of the plate nearest her were crumbling and had fallen away in places. The stub of the Shin-Ra headquarters stood, truncated but still visible above the upper reaches of the rest of the cityscape. She was used to seeing the surrounding wasted land, but now that dead area extended even further. The swamp was no more; it was completely dried up, the ground cracked and dead vegetation wilted and disintegrating. Here and there she could see the skeletons of the Zoloms that had inhabited the place, exposed and picked clean. In fact, now that she had noticed them, her vision sharpened and she began to see bones all over. Thousands and thousands and thousands of them, piled under the edges of the crumbling plate; spreading out into the desert-like waste; carpeting the ground to the point where she couldn’t tell where the crumbling bones ended and the crumbling dirt began. Small dust devils swirled amongst them, and she could hear the dry rattle of the bones shifting against each other in the silence. It was a desolate, dry valley of death and decay, and the very air was arid and lifeless and pressed down on her. The air pushed her down, the weight of the souls in this place pushed her down, and the earth and the bones pulled at her; her life and her energy were draining away, into the greedy ground that had become a sink of despair.

_maiden my womb is barren I cry dust all joy is gone the crone walks the land all hunger as my face turns from them my heart is dry give me justice warrior of light restore my crown_

She jerked, falling forward and catching herself with her hand splayed out on the map in front of her. Blinking hard, she snatched her hand back up against herself, not wanting to touch the earth at all, lest it suck the flesh right off her bones and leave her skeleton to join the others staring at the sun with eyeless sockets.

“Whoa!” Shears made a move to catch her, but she was beyond his reach and it was Eitan who caught her shoulder and steadied her. “Y’alright?” he asked, trying to see her face as she fell back on her butt.

She nodded, swallowing. “Just… just a little dizzy.” But she didn’t feel alright at all. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, and a sharp stab of pain shot down her left arm with every heart beat.

“Would you like some water?” Fuhito was already rising.

“No,” Elfe said, stopping him. “No. I’m fine. Sorry.” She pushed her hair off her face, willing her heart to slow down and the pain to fade, and looked at them. Again, that feeling of disjointedness filled her, but somehow what she had just seen had made the final decision easy. They might lose some people if they moved now, but if they failed in what they were trying to do they were all going to die anyway. So. “We’ll do this,” she said. “We have to. _The bird of time has but a little way to fly, and the bird is on the wing._”

Fuhito gave her a strange look. “Where…” he began, but Shears interrupted him. “Good enough! Game on!” He got up and bent to retrieve the map and fold it up. Eitan rose as well. “Yessum!” 

She smiled up at them but her eyes were unfocused, finding it hard to look at their faces and not see grinning skulls, and know that she was responsible for their ending. She shivered.

**************************

“Namaste.” The lady on the television screen placed her hands together and bowed her head slightly. 

“Namaste,” Sephiroth replied solemnly, copying her gesture.

“Firstly, let us be starting with the warming up and the reviewing. Please to start with monkey side planks for stretching of both of the sides.” 

Obediently, Sephiroth moved from the side planks to standing splits with a twist, stretching his quads and opening his hips, then the firefly, and then his favourite so far, the forearm stand with scorpion legs. By the time he had worked slowly through the five variations of the mermaid pose, spent some time in the grasshopper position and ended up in last week’s eight angle pose he was pleasantly sore and actually sweating. Finally he knelt facing the screen, waiting for today’s lesson.

“Now, our newest posing is called killer praying mantis. I be showing you, then we will be doing together, like so.” 

Sephiroth watched as the woman contorted herself into a position that seemed humanly impossible, but her serene face and effortless movements belied the difficulty. He had learned that the hard way. The yogi unfolded herself and returned to a resting stance in which all her arms and legs were in the correct anatomical positions. “Om shanti om,” she intoned, closing her eyes. “Now. We are starting with the slowness of the first movement. Please to do with me…”

Sephiroth followed her instructions as best he could. Even for him, the unfamiliar movements did not come easily. He tried to watch the screen out of the corner of his eye as he reached the point in the stance where his head was facing away from the television, but he couldn’t see anymore if he was doing it right. It didn’t _feel_ right. But then again, it rarely did the first time.

At that moment, his PHS beeped. Sephiroth glanced at it, and considered. If he unwound himself now, he would lose the rhythm of the lesson and have to start over. If he didn’t, he’d miss the call. It would go to voicemail. But what if it was an emergency? Why did they always have to call _him_ for an emergency? He had specifically asked for this time off every day so he could practice with the live broadcast. Was that _so_ much to ask?! 

The beeping continued. Whoever it was had obviously not waited to be directed to voicemail, and had instead called back right away. The beeping stopped for a couple of seconds, then started again. Growling in irritation, Sephiroth gave up and started to untangle his limbs. His concentration was gone and the lesson had moved on and by Odin’s balls someone was going to go on his naughty list for this!

He reached for the phone just as the beeping stopped. “Hello? Hello? _**HELLO!**_” he spoke loudly into the receiver. He had just missed them. It took conscious effort not to crush the phone in his fist. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and muttered “namaste” before dialing voicemail and picking up the message.

“Congratulations! You have won an all expenses paid vacation to Gold Saucer! But you have to call within the next five minutes to collect your pr-“ The PHS hit the far wall and disappeared through it.

Sephiroth was still grumpy when he went to bed that night. Very few people could tell, given that his usual expression was fairly bland, but perversely that irritated him even more today. He cultivated his quiet and distant manner deliberately: it was always safest not to give away any indication of his feelings. But today he would have appreciated someone asking him if he was okay, or what was wrong. He was just too good at everything, though, and so everyone assumed he was fine as per usual, and he went to bed feeling dissatisfied with the world. 

Time passed as he lay there and tried to pin down what was bothering him. Self examination was not his forte. Emotions and emotional intricacies were slippery; yet another reason for maintaining a dispassionate shield. He felt restless, and… not exactly bored, but… displeased with his life, and his routine, and the food he had eaten for dinner, and the colour of the walls in his quarters, and the length of his hair, and… his thoughts spiraled round and round and he turned his pillow over and punched it and threw off the blanket and lay there for a few minutes and then dragged the covers over himself again. He was just UNCOMFORTABLE. 

Finally, he turned on his back and arranged himself as if he was lying in a coffin, folding his hands on his chest, closing his eyes and breathing deeply from his abdomen. Over the years he had developed many techniques for shutting out his surroundings and doing as much as he could to turn off his brain. Externally it might look like he was meditating or sleeping, but he was just trying to survive the times when the world and its endless stimuli were overwhelming and he needed to escape. Tonight, it was either breathe and detach, or go down to the training room to work himself to exhaustion. Or go find Hojo and admit that he needed something to allow him to sleep.

Wet. He was wet. And cold. What had happened? Had he been injured and put into a mako tank to recover? Or had Hojo slipped something into his food again and taken him down to the labs for more ‘testing’? Blinking, he realized he was outside in the night, and it was raining. Lightning flashed in sheets and multiple forks, and in the intermittent illumination he saw he was on the edge of the upper plate. As his eyes adjusted, his mako-enhanced vision allowed him to make out the wasteland around Midgar. Usually it was empty, except for whatever monsters were roaming around at the time, but now he could see a river of people streaming toward the city. 

Was this some sort of invasion? Was the city under attack? Why was he out here? _How_ did he get out here? Was this some sort of simulation? He wiped the rain off his face and looked again. The people were still there. It was no army, but a mass of ordinary folk, looking much the worse for wear, many carrying sodden bundles, or pushing or dragging carts loaded with those unable to walk. Mud clogged every wheel and caked every foot as they struggled along. Their clothes were in shreds and the flesh revealed was rotting, covered with running sores, in shades of red and black and purple, and crusted in yellow pus. 

Thunder crashed, deafening him for a minute, but as his hearing came back, it seemed to him that the crowd was calling his name, a low sibilance amongst wails and moans, and that they were crying for his help.

_mercy mercy knight of honour pestilence destroys me inside and out bring the cool touch to soothe the fever bring the balm to soothe the pain bring the kind words to soothe the tortured soul be one with me cleanse me free me make me whole_

Sephiroth’s eyes popped open and he stared at the ceiling of his quarters. What was going on with his brain! He must have actually fallen asleep and had a dream. Which in itself was strange. And it had been so realistic! He still felt like he was wet and cold, and the helpless horror of the suffering hordes reaching out to him left him nauseous and despairing.

Hojo had drilled into him from childhood that he was to write down any dreams he had, and there was always a pen and notebook on his bedside table. Sephiroth didn’t often dream, or remember his dreams, and, if he were honest, he didn’t always record the ones he _did_ remember. Somehow that had started to feel very invasive as he got older, and he resented that even his subconscious was supposed to be open to analysis, like he was some malfunctioning computer. It was a small rebellion to not share everything that his brain decided to show him.

However, over the years he had learned enough basic dream interpretation to make some educated guesses as to what his dreams meant. It amused him to compare his own private conclusions with those that Hojo sometimes discussed with him. He had come to the decision that most dreams were just the mind processing data, putting things together in odd ways, but occasionally it seemed like it was trying to communicate something to his consciousness. He paid attention to those dreams. Again, often they were quite straightforward, though some merited more thought. He had had some interesting insights through dreams over the years, but most times his brain was just trying to tell him something mundane. For example, he had learned that if he dreamed of water… being in water, hearing water, going from place to place in the dreamscape and encountering water… his brain was usually trying to wake him up because his body had to urinate. He had to admit, it was a good messaging system and it worked.

Yes, that was it. Just a silly dream. Easily explained. Deliberately putting it all from his mind, he threw off the covers again, and headed to the bathroom.

**************************

The smell of roasting meat drifting on the evening breeze suddenly became stronger as the wind shifted. From her position past the edge of camp, Elfe swallowed hard, her mouth filling with saliva and her empty stomach growling. Someone had obviously managed to bring in some sort of game to supplement their rations; she could practically taste dinner, seasoned with a bit of salt and pepper and maybe some onions. She wondered if they had any flatbread left. Her tummy didn’t care. It just wanted some of whatever was cooking. 

Lowering the macrobinoculars, Elfe continued to look at the horizon; without their aid, she could still see the lights of Junon, and the sparkle of the setting sun on the ocean. The details she had firmly imprinted in her mind’s eye: the several roads into and out of the port city; the position of the Shin-Ra checkpoints along each of them; the schematics of the mako canon installation; the escape routes.

By this time tomorrow, it would all be over. One way or another.

She snapped the binoculars into their case. Right now, it was time for supper and then a few hours of rest. Careful of her footing in the dark, she headed back toward the faint glows of the camp stoves. There were three, spread fairly far apart, as each group gathered around its own little haven of warmth and food. Even though they were quite far from the city, they didn’t need to advertise their presence, and if they were seen, they would be more likely to be able to pass themselves off as just some more travelers heading to the port, as so many did every day.

But it was preferable if no one did see them. Elfe arrived at the nearest camp. Silently she joined the others around the small stove, accepted her plate and retreated to just outside the circle of dim light to sit and eat. They _did_ have some bread left, and the first bite was incredibly good, for simple meat in a stale wrap. 

A figure stepped over and squatted down next to her. Fuhito’s glasses glinted briefly as he settled himself with his own meal.

“Are we set?” Elfe asked. “Any last minute changes you think would be helpful?”

“No.” Fuhito shook his head. “Not that I can think of. We just have to get to the canon installation and take out the guards on the lower levels. Then it’s free and clear to the control room.”

“You’d think that Shin-Ra would be a little more creative,” Elfe mused. “The layout and the design are the same for each of the reactors. Same for their weapons.”

“Why meddle with something that works?” Fuhito shrugged.

Elfe glanced sideways at him. “Because you become predictable. And that’s dangerous.”

“You’ve been listening to Shears,” Fuhito grumbled. “He’s a bad influence.”

“It’s a logical observation. And we all have our areas of expertise,” Elfe said, mopping up the last of the meat juice from her plate. “His experience has been invaluable. You’d do well to remember that.”

Fuhito was silent. He looked down at his own meal. It was too dark to see his expression.

“Our mission in Midgar, on the Sector 8 reactor, was almost like a dry run for this,” Elfe said. “Things _should_ go that much more smoothly, since everyone knows the setup. But that’s what’s bothering me. I just have this feeling… what if, after our last attack, they’ve changed something? What if they’ve added some little surprise here, just in case? We mustn’t become complacent!”

“There’s been no intelligence to that effect. You’re borrowing trouble.”

“Hm. I wonder.”

“Why don’t you go check with your precious Shears, if you’re so worried?”

Elfe stood abruptly. “That’s exactly what I’ll do,” she said, smiling down at the disgruntled Fuhito. She nodded at the plate she had left on the ground. “Take that back for me, will you? Thanks.” And she wrapped her cloak around herself and walked into the night.

Shears was making his own way from one camp to the next when he caught sight of a pale irregular blob in the distance. Changing direction, he headed toward it, his soft boots and dark hair and clothes allowing him to move quietly. Elfe bit back an exclamation as he appeared out of the dark at her elbow.

“Don’t do that!” she hissed.

“Sorry,” Shears said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice even though it was hard to see his expression. He wasn’t sorry at all. “But really,” and now she could hear his seriousness, “you need to get rid of that stupid cape. White is not a good colour when you don’t want to be seen.” 

She pulled it more tightly around herself. “It’s warm,” she said defensively. “And it’s special. I was given it when I left Cosmo Canyon. White is the colour they associate with the sky, and with morality, and with purity… of purpose!” she added hastily. Now she was glad of the dark, so he couldn’t see her blush. She wished she hadn’t included that last bit. 

Whether or not Shears had picked up on it wasn’t clear. In any case, he seemed to ignore her awkwardness, and for that she was grateful. “Well.” He sounded like he was trying to be patient. “I don’t think they’ll be offended if you don’t wear it all the time. I doubt they want you to be a target… more than you already are. How about keeping it for cold nights? Or when it’s just us around? But leave it behind when we head out tomorrow?”

“I’ll think about it.” Elfe was reluctant to agree. She felt like the cloak was a symbol of the mantle of responsibility that she had assumed, and a good luck talisman, and she didn’t want to leave it off. She understood Shears’ concern, and yet somehow she felt more protected when she wore the thing, not less.

“Good.” With anyone else, Shears would have insisted. With Elfe, he knew that if he pushed her, she would just dig in her heels. He didn’t want to create a rift between them, especially on the eve of a mission, and especially not over something as silly as a cape.

“How is everyone?” Elfe asked, changing the subject.

“Just going around to check,” Shears answered. “Mood is good. The usual jitters, but no one’s freaking out so far.”

Elfe nodded, then stopped, putting her hand on Shears’ arm to stop him, too. It was the hand with the materia in it, and the small hairs on the back of Shears’ neck rose. “Listen,” Elfe said, keeping her voice low. “Any news? I mean, any _new_ news? Anything suspicious?”

Shears was a bit puzzled. “No, nothing new. You mean, like any new reports? No, as of an hour ago nothing’s changed. We’re good to go.”

“Okay.” Elfe withdrew her hand and tucked it under her cape again. “Good. Just checking.”

Shears snorted. “Just pre-battle nerves, you mean. Even the commander isn’t immune to that.”

“I guess,” Elfe shrugged. “But keep your eyes and ears peeled anyway, okay? Make me happy. Fuhito has no imagination, but I know _you_ know what I mean.”

“Fuhito? What about Fuhito?” Shears looked at her sharply. 

“Mm, nothing, nothing,” Elfe hastily assured him, cursing herself for feeding his suspicious dislike of the other man. “He just tends to be… not overconfident, but… _dismissive_ of anything that can’t be quantified and measured. He’s very good at what he does, you all are! But he’s not really a _people_ person, you know? Not _sensitive_ to the little things.”

Shears pursed his lips, considering. Being as he _was_ sensitive to such things, he understood what she wasn’t saying out loud. And, again, he decided that it wasn’t worth creating an issue about at this time. He would just take it under advisement, and be extra watchful of the Wutaian. “Alright,” he said slowly. 

Elfe relaxed, thankful that he wasn’t going to press her for more specifics. “Yes, I think we are,” she smiled. “Now, let’s leave this. We have a mission to accomplish and I need everyone tip-top in the morning!”

“_Hooah!_” Shears made a little salute, his long hair flopping over his eyes. 

“And get that hair out of your eyes before tomorrow!” Elfe said, giving him a mock glare. “I can’t afford to lose one of my commanders because he runs into a wall and takes himself out.”

Shears grinned. “You leave the cape off, I’ll cut my hair.”

Elfe gave that a moment’s thought. “Deal.” She stuck out her hand again.

Shears grabbed it and shook, not giving himself any time to hesitate. “Deal!” he said. And they stepped into the dim light of the second camp’s stove with a united front, their confident smiles reassuring, and made sure everyone was ready for the coming day. No one noticed Shears surreptitiously wiping his hand on his pants.

Much later, Elfe finally lay down on her bedroll. Dawn was only a few hours away. She didn’t think she could sleep at all, keyed up as always before a mission, but she closed her eyes. Resting them would be better than nothing.

She was standing in water. Confused, she looked down. Dark water lapped over the tops of her boots, soaking her pants. It was cold, and stank of sewage and brine. She looked up and around, thinking there had been a flash flood and the camp was under water… but surely they had not chosen to stay in such a risky place! And there had been no rain, no storm, in the forecast anywhere in the area. The sun was still low in the sky, but it was definitely daylight. Rows of small waves rolled gently past her legs, one after another. Panicking, she tried to move, stumbling as mud sucked at her boots. She could see where the grey water seemed to end in the distance, as it shallowed out onto grassy marshy land. Empty land. Where was everyone? How did it get light so fast? Why couldn’t she remember getting from her bed to this… wherever it was? “Shears!” she yelled, throwing caution away. “Fuhito! Where are you!”

Elfe held her breath, trying to hear any response. Beyond the small whoosh of the waves… it sounded like someone crying. She shaded her eyes and squinted, looking for a bird, a seagull, as they often were found inland, but could see nothing. Turning and splashing, she tried to take in a panoramic view of her surroundings; as she came around to see what was behind her, her hands flew up to cover her mouth and she stood stock still again. 

Stretching out in front of her were what looked like small islands. There were so many, and all had suspiciously regular outlines. Nature did not make squares and rectangles. And Nature definitely did not make mako canons. The sun rose higher as she tried to make sense of the waves lapping around the top stories of the buildings of Junon Port and a third of the way up the huge escarpment that housed the canon. The canon itself stood marooned like a lighthouse, still pointing outward but now over deep sea, instead of coastal cliffs. The crying she had heard grew louder in the eerie silence, definitely a woman’s voice, and it sounded like it was calling her name.

_my hawk my love fly high fly far strike hard and fast and true as an arrow from above stand against the tide of greed and corruption pierce the veil of lies cover my desecrated flesh in beauty cleanse me replenish me let my waters flow bring the rebirth_

Gasping, Elfe bolted upright feeling frantically around herself. It was too dark to see but her bedroll was dry and she could feel solid, dry ground around her. The air still smelled faintly of grilled meat, not salt, and the sounds were that of any ordinary night: the snores and breathing of people around her; the faint footsteps of the guard; the insects chirring faintly in the background.

She sat while her brain sorted out where it was again, gradually letting go of the dream and focusing on the coming day. She sighed, scrubbing tiredly at her face. Might as well get up; she certainly wasn’t going to get any more sleep. The countdown had begun.

When the commanders met briefly before heading out that morning, Elfe made a point of rolling her white cloak up in her bedding, before throwing it into the back of one of the old transport trucks. Instead she shrugged on an old jacket, of a fashionable brown colour and guaranteed not to stand out in a crowd. 

Shears was a bit late to the meeting. “Where’s Shears?” she asked, impatiently checking her timepiece. “We can’t afford to be running behind!” 

“Here!” He jogged up, dressed as Shin-Ra security and slinging a rifle over his shoulder. 

“Good. We…” Elfe glanced up at him, starting to speak then stopped short. “What the hell happened to you!” she demanded.

Shears raised a self-conscious hand to his forehead and shrugged. “We had a deal,” he said ruefully. “Honestly, I didn’t think… well, never let it be said I welched on a deal!”

Elfe eyed her second-in-command. His long forelock was gone, and the remaining hair had been cropped short enough that it stood straight up in a bristle. He, or someone… but from the look of the hack job, she was quite sure he had done it himself… had also trimmed the hair on the sides of his head around his ears, so that they were exposed, but left the back long. It was a most unfortunate overall result, but it was cut!

“Very well,” she said, keeping a straight face. “You might want to put on a hat or something. Your ears look cold. Now, let’s synchronize, and move out. Time’s a wasting!”

They went their separate ways and Elfe allowed herself a small private giggle. As Shears hurried back to his group, someone tossed him a toque and she could hear their laughter. He caught it and pulled it on, throwing a few choice words back at the ones teasing him. She knew that couldn’t have been easy for him to do, but, well, hair grew back, and not only did Shears honour his word, but he knew the value of lightening the mood at a time like this. She gave silent thanks again to the Goddess for bringing him her way.

She didn’t notice Fuhito glowering as he, too, watched Shears leave, before hurrying after Elfe.

**************************

Sephiroth had decided that some personal pampering might improve his mental state, and had booked himself for the works at the most exclusive day spa in Midgar. At the moment, he was stood on a stool, still as a statue. He was very good at holding still. He imagined himself slowly fossilizing, his bones turning to stone, and his skin fusing with the dirt. One day he would just topple over and the earth would cover him and in thousands of years someone would dig him up and marvel over the imprint of his hair in the stone around him, like the fossil impressions of leaves and feathers that could still be seen in ancient rock. It would be very peaceful lying there, he thought. Quiet. No alarms. No one sending him annoying texts or phone calls. No one poking and prodding him and forcing him to do things he didn’t want to. He would have his brain to himself. His fists clenched unconsciously and he defensively hunched his shoulders a little, then winced at the stab of pain in his neck as his tense muscles spasmed. The hot rock massage couldn’t come fast enough. 

The light had turned a strange, sickly, greenish colour and there was a heavy, still feeling in the air. His ears popped, it was hard to breathe, and he was reminded of the time Hojo had put him into a vacuum chamber. Recalling that most unpleasant experience, he started to panic a little, a feeling that was not alleviated by the solid ceiling of sinister black clouds that seemed only feet above his head. As he stared up the clouds were parting and lowering around him in a monstrous thick funnel, and then the air started to move, whirling around him, causing his hair to whip out and wrap tightly around him. Clawing it out of his eyes and nose he staggered with the abrupt increase of the wind to gale force, and then suddenly his feet lifted off the ground and he was being sucked into the sky, being thrown around, tumbling head over heels, and the wind was screaming, he couldn’t hear or see or breathe, completely helpless in the tornado’s grip. 

_my love my dove with a heart of steel come to me sit in judgment in wisdom in forgiveness let the evildoers reap the whirlwind save me bring me succor bring me hope bring me to fulfillment_

“Please, sir,” came a small quavering voice. Sephiroth gave a start, his heart hammering as he automatically caught his balance, and looked down. The young hair stylist stood several feet away, clutching his comb and scissors protectively to his chest and visibly trembling. Sephiroth felt rather trembly himself, but he forced himself back to the moment, thankful that he hadn’t fallen off his perch.

“What is it?” Sephiroth asked. “Are you done?” He pulled a hank of hair over his shoulder and examined the ends. “Did you get them all?”

“No, sir, not yet,” the stylist quavered. “If you could just… just a bit longer, sir… please would you mind holding still so I can get it all even? If… if it wouldn’t be too much trouble?” The young man was nervously stuttering and fluttering and unconsciously snicking his scissors open and shut. It was a huge responsibility and a huge privilege to trim the great Sephiroth’s hair, and he did NOT want to make a mistake. Just an inch off, he had been told, not a smidgen more, but make sure all the split ends were gone. The girl who had held this position before him had taken off an inch and a half, and word was that she and her scissors had been posted to a shrimp processing plant near Gongaga where they were cutting open crustaceans and removing their poop veins.

“Very well,” Sephiroth sighed heavily. “Hurry up, though. 

The stylist approached cautiously and combed the hair Sephiroth had disturbed back into place, carefully measuring an inch (and no more), and cutting it off. Little fluffy tufts littered the floor as he worked his way around the stool, making sure everything was even. Just a small section left…

The General’s PHS suddenly beeped loudly. The man’s hand jerked, and suddenly there was a tuft, larger than the others, on the floor at his feet. In fact, one could say it was more of a hunk, or a chunk, than a tuft. He stared in horror at the gap in the otherwise smooth and even fall of silver before him. Reluctantly, his gaze traveled up, up, until it met glacial green eyes staring back down at him. The phone continued to beep. 

Slowly, Sephiroth raised the phone to his ear. “Yes?” His voice was dead calm. He listened with no expression on his face, as the stylist backed slowly away, gulping and shaking and still pinned by that poisonous green glare. He was certain he had but seconds to live. He wished that he had cleared his search history that morning before coming into work, but there was no help for it now. Life was cruel.

“I’ll be right there.” The phone was snapped shut. Sephiroth stepped down off the stool. “Thank you,” he said gravely, and strode away, his long mane with the ragged bite out of the bottom right side swaying behind him.

The stylist fainted dead away.

**************************

Elfe walked through the smoky air of the control room and out onto the huge barrel of Junon’s mako canon. The short battle to capture the installation was over. The breeze coming in off the ocean blew her hair back and she put her hands on her hips, smiling fiercely into the sunshine. The blue-white glow of her hand and her eyes rivaled the light reflecting off the water below. Destination achieved! Damn, it felt good to have a success! And damn, she wished that she had her cloak! This was definitely a cloak moment! She should be standing here with it flowing dramatically behind her, master of all she surveyed! Oh, well. One couldn’t have everything.

Suddenly there was a faint cry, and she started, putting a hand to her pounding heart and looking around frantically. There was that voice again! She was definitely losing it! But then she saw some gulls wheeling far below the canon, close to the water, and sighed in relief. It _wasn’t_ in her head this time, thank the Goddess!

_yes thank me_

Elfe clapped her hands to her ears, gritting her teeth and grimacing. Spoke too soon! “Get out of my head!” she yelled.

“…what?” 

Elfe turned abruptly, convinced she was going insane, but this time the voice was an actual human and not in her imagination. Fuhito stood in the doorway of the control room, holding his timepiece in one hand and his PHS in the other and looking bewildered and concerned. 

“Nothing!” Elfe said brusquely. “Are we secured?”

“Um…” Fuhito paused, pushing up his glasses. He wanted to say something else, but decided to leave well enough alone. If his commander was walking along the thin edge of madness, he didn’t want to push her over. At least not right now. “Yes, all secure here. No casualties… of ours, anyway… and, even better, Shears has the President!”

“What? Shears? How did that happen? He’s not supposed to be at the hotel, that’s Eitan’s position! But… what are you saying? We’ve actually captured the President of Shin-Ra??” Elfe’s stomach was doing little flip flops of excitement. If they had both the President _and_ the canon, then they were golden! 

Fuhito nodded, a pleased expression on his face, which was about as happy as he could look. His mouth didn’t naturally bend upward, just down. “Apparently the President had insisted on keeping his scheduled appearance at the conference centre. When he arrived, with only one Turk to escort him, Shears and his group captured him. They have him below and are waiting for orders.”

“_One_ Turk? The idiots! _What_ were they thinking! I guess they weren’t! Well, let’s go greet our guest, shall we? He deserves our special attention!” Elfe and Fuhito shared a moment of mutual satisfaction and vicious anticipation, each with their own plans for the President, before Elfe suddenly remembered what the original combat plan had been. “Wait. He wasn’t supposed to leave the hotel! How did he get out? Why didn’t Eitan and his group keep him there?”

Fuhito had the grace to look rather uncomfortable. “Um… we don’t have a full report yet, but it seems that they _did_ secure the entrances to the hotel… briefly.”

“Briefly?”

“The _other_ Turk,” Fuhito said succinctly, and Elfe swore. 

“Bloody Turks! Did any of our people make it out?”

“Yes, two. That we know of. They sent the report before they had to go to radio silence.”

“Eitan?”

“No word.”

“Damn it!” Elfe’s good mood vanished. “Hopefully they’ll make it here as planned. In the meantime, the President and his beloved Turk are going to pay dearly for every hurt any of us have suffered!” She turned to continue back through the control room and down to the main level just as Fuhito’s communicator buzzed. She paused, waiting to see if the incoming message required her attention.

“Well?” she asked, impatient to pay the President a visit.

“Um…”

“What is it, man! Spit it out!”

“The President has… escaped.” Fuhito whispered. He gave a little bow, falling back on extreme politeness… and also putting himself in a good position to duck any incoming materia blasts.

“WHAT?!!”

“The other Turk showed up, the one with the red hair.”

Elfe’s hand was glowing blue-white and her eyes picked up the light. “And why,” she asked, her voice starting off dangerously soft but rapidly increasing in volume, “are you still here? Go. GO! Take whoever you need! Get him back! Or kill him! I don’t care which! Either would be a blessing for the Planet!”

“Yes, ma’am!” drifted back to her ears. Fuhito was already gone.

Alone in the control room, Elfe paced and tried to calm down. She was sweating, her face was red and her blood pressure was soaring, she could feel it. She massaged her chest absently with the hand that held Zirconiade, both the glow and the pain gradually dying down. Finally her brain kicked back in and she pulled out her PHS, snapping out orders to the remaining people under her direct command, sending them to secure the entrances to the installation. They may have lost the presidential bargaining chip, but they were not about to lose the canon! Their mission was half complete. Now they just had to arm and aim the weapon and destroy Midgar, and with it, Shin-Ra headquarters. Cut the head off the snake and the body might writhe around for a while, but it would be in its death throes.

However, Elfe knew that Shin-Ra would not go down without a fight, especially since the President was here. It would be only a short time before they could expect some sort of retaliation as well as an attempt to regain control of the situation. AVALNCHE had to be ready.

The afternoon wore on, and Elfe received sporadic updates. Communications were kept to a minimum to avoid interception. A few stragglers from Eitan’s group rejoined their comrades and confirmed the reports of the Turk presence around the President. Eitan himself was amongst those still unaccounted for, but no one could be spared to go looking for the missing.

Shears had received a nasty head wound from the Turk, and currently sat propped against one of the control room consoles, the bandage wrapped around his head giving him a rakish look. His eyes were a bit off but he held his rifle securely in his lap and Elfe knew his aim would still be true. He watched her as she paced, the only other person aware of her misgivings about Fuhito. He had cursed when he found out she had sent him after the President, but the glow in her eyes had warned him not to question her orders. They both knew it might have been a fatal mistake, but there was nothing that could be changed now.

Fuhito had chosen to work alone, as he often did, and that gave Elfe pause. Deep in her heart she wondered if he was on his way to do her bidding, or running to the enemy with all that he knew. He wouldn’t be the first to turn in the heat of battle, thinking that the grass was greener on the other side. Outwardly she projected complete confidence in her commander. Fuhito would succeed or not, that was now out of her hands. In the meantime, they had other work to do; if he betrayed them, they would still accomplish their goal of destroying the capital. That, he would be too late to stop. 

There was a tense silence in the control room when Fuhito finally sent a short text telling them that he was in the hotel, and that it seemed unguarded. Elfe didn’t text him back, not wanting to distract him as he entered the Malboro’s lair. He had his orders; she prayed that his heart was in the cause, even if his attitude sometimes sucked. But she wondered if that would be the last message they would ever receive from him, for one reason or another.

A few minutes later, though, another text came through: shockingly, he had found the President unguarded and taken a chance that it was not an ambush. Fuhito had left the President for dead, and was on his way back! A short cheer went up, startling Shears for a second, but he quickly joined in when he realized it was good news. Elfe felt a little light-headed. _So far, so good!_ she thought. She could question him further when and if he returned, but meanwhile the rollercoaster ride of the day was not over yet. 

“Listen up!” she yelled, getting everyone’s attention. The jubilant mood faded as they quieted. “Focus, everyone!” Elfe said, deliberately crossing her arms and trying to look as intimidating and stern as possible. “You’ve all done a great job, but you know this isn’t over yet. We have the canon, and, beyond hope, the President is dead. Shin-Ra will be in some confusion, but that won’t last. They still have the son, and he has a well-oiled machine at his disposal. They will come for vengeance, and they will come to take back what is theirs. We have to act fast to complete our mission and then get out before we’re trapped here. We’ve lost some good people today,” she paused and took a deep breath, wishing she didn’t have to say that, “and we can’t lose any more. _I_ can’t lose any more of you.” She looked around the room at each of them, meeting their eyes, and hoping that they understood her pain when even one of them was harmed. She looked at Shears last, and he gave her a wonky grin and a thumbs up. She smiled back. “So let’s do this!”

She went to give Shears a hand, but he waved her off and worked himself to his feet using the console for support. She shoved a chair toward him and he sat, then started flipping switches and moving levers. Elfe turned again to the rest of her men. Everyone knew their part. Most of them gave her a salute, and hustled out the door to set up a perimeter and keep watch. That left her with Shears, who would have been out with the rest if he wasn’t injured, and Meg, Fuhito’s assistant. She was already at another console, calmly and competently carrying out what she had practiced so many times. The hum of the canon powering up was first felt through the soles of their feet, and then it progressed to an audible sound. Soon it was causing the whole installation to vibrate slightly.

Elfe was pacing again, rubbing the back of her hand as the materia in it glowed softly in response to her agitation and adrenaline. Realizing the nervous habits, she pulled on her gloves and shoved her hands in her pockets, forcing herself to stand still. So close to success! She briefly wished Fuhito was here to take over this last critical part, but Meg was up for the job, and the Wutaian had more than done his part today. Despite everything, Elfe just hoped he was safe and would meet up with them again soon.

“How long before it’s at full power?” she asked. 

“Twenty-six minutes,” Meg said, not looking up from her work. Shears nodded confirmation.

“Are the coordinates set?” 

“Entering them now,” Shears said. The huge canon started to move slowly as it realigned itself to face far-away Midgar.

Elfe shivered and hugged herself in tension and excitement. There was a series of clicks and a groan as the canon stopped its rotation and settled into the programmed direction. The hum continued to build. 

Suddenly Elfe needed some air. “I’m going out,” she said. 

“What?” Shears asked in surprise, but she was already stepping out again onto the barrel and couldn’t hear him. The breeze came from a different direction now that the canon had moved, and her hair blew sideways. She stripped it out of her face and turned her head slightly so the wind wasn’t whistling directly in her ear. Elfe strained her eyes, but of course couldn’t see any sign of Midgar, it was too far away. She stared at the horizon, nonetheless, imagining the destruction that would soon fall on the capital, and the fear and pain that thousands of people would experience as their lives came to an abrupt end. She shut her eyes tight, letting the wind fill her head again, refusing to think about that. Innocents would die, yes, along with the guilty. It couldn’t be helped. They could blame Shin-Ra for it, not her, not AVALANCHE. The Planet had to live, and to save it, there would be unavoidable sacrifice.

She didn’t hear Shears shouting for her. She didn’t hear the cries of her own people. She didn’t hear anything but the wind until the humming of the canon suddenly began to decrease, dying away much more rapidly than it had built. 

Sensing something was wrong as the sound and the vibration ceased, Elfe opened her eyes and whirled around, intending to run back inside and find out what was happening. Standing in her way was a tall silent figure in black and grey, its long silver hair flying around it in the breeze. 

“Sephiroth,” she whispered.

It wasn’t clear if he could hear her or not, but he inclined his head, acknowledging if not responding to her.

Elfe craned her neck, trying to see past him back in to the control room. Where was Shears? Meg? Where were all the others? Had Sephiroth mowed them all down on his way through, and now had her trapped out here, the final obstacle to regaining Shin-Ra’s control over the Planet? She had anticipated that the company would react quickly, but she had to admit she was a little surprised that they had sent Sephiroth. However, she supposed that assassinating their President and preparing to destroy their home base _did_ qualify as a significant threat. She supposed she should be flattered.

Now that the canon had powered down, there was only the sound of the wind, and the ocean far below, and she wanted to shout for Shears, but discarded that idea. It would be of no use anyway. The others were either dead or otherwise occupied. She would have to get past Sephiroth herself. Wasting no more time on impossible wishes, Elfe set her jaw and drew her sword, settling into a ready stance. It crossed her mind fleetingly to be thankful that she had listened to Shears' request to leave her cloak off today. It would have been nothing but a hindrance. The jacket was warm enough and allowed her to move without getting tangled up. 

Facing her, Sephiroth did the same. He had no sense of nervousness. What was one small woman going to do to him? It would be a matter of minutes, no, seconds, to eliminate her and send her to join the rest of the deluded zealots he had stepped over in the passageway on his way in, ignoring the Turk who had obviously just finished ‘dealing’ with the last of the bunch (that was what _they_ were paid for, after all). In the control room was another pair of deplorables, a man with an incredibly horrible hair style and a bandage on his head, slumped over one of the control boards and a dark woman on the floor, staring at him with sightless eyes. They were of no consequence. Sephiroth had continued out onto the canon’s barrel to deal with the lone figure he could see standing there. From his briefing, he knew that this was the leader of AVALANCHE, and thus the one who really mattered. 

Now he faced her, mildly surprised at her unassuming stature and plain features, confident in his ability to make short work of her, yet vigilant. Having been taught to never underestimate an enemy, and knowing that looks could be deceiving, he waited for her to make the first move. Various emotions flashed across her face: surprise; fear; concern as she tried to see past him; and then grim resolve as she drew her weapon. 

Sephiroth had Masamune out and at the ready, but, growing rather impatient when his opponent just stood there, he started arcing the blade around in small figure eights, indicating his boredom. “I haven’t got all day,” he said, his voice loud enough that she could hear him without difficulty. “Are you going to fight, or just jump and save us both the effort?”

Elfe tore her gaze from watching the end of his sword as it drifted back and forth, feeling a flash of anger. That was good. Anger was good, as long as she didn’t let it control her. “What’s the matter?” she called back. “Afraid you can’t keep up with me?”

“Hardly,” Sephiroth replied disdainfully. “It’s just that your little group tantrum out here has interrupted my spa day at a rather inopportune time. I’d like to get back to it without delay.” 

“Oh, well, by all means, then, let’s move this along,” Elfe sneered. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your seaweed wrap.“

“Efle, isn’t it?” he asked. “I missed making your acquaintance during your recent visit to Midgar. A shame, but here we are now. It seems we were fated to meet.”

“It’s ELFE. And I haven’t been anxious to meet YOU. But, as you say, here we are. Too bad I didn’t bring my autograph book.”

“A minor detail. I’ll just carve my initials into your body, how about that.”

“Come and try!” And with that, Elfe lunged forward, bringing her blade across in a slash so fast it was barely visible. Sephiroth parried it easily, nonetheless impressed at her speed and strength. He had not been expecting that. “Not bad,” he commented, swinging his own sword, and forcing her to dance backward. “This might be a bit more entertaining than I anticipated.”

“Oh, _so_ happy to oblige!” Elfe said, ducking under his longer blade and making him step back in return as she came a little too close to skewering him for comfort.

The battle moved up and down the canon barrel, as each sought to run the other through; push the other off into the depths below; or, failing either, wear them out. Sunlight flashed off their blades, and the clash and shriek of metal on metal was painful to the ears. 

Sephiroth was not fully exerting himself, but neither was he holding back, and still he hadn’t made contact with his smaller adversary. She kept coming back after him, and he felt a grudging respect for her stamina and skill. It was impressive for someone not enhanced. As that thought crossed his mind, it was followed by a niggle of suspicion. It seemed impossible for an ordinary human, no matter how strong and fast and experienced, to perform to the level that she was exhibiting. What was she hiding? He began to pay more attention, his senses sharpening as he tried to figure out her secret.

For her part, Elfe wasn’t thinking much at all. She concentrated on remembering to breathe, and otherwise let instinct and Zirconiade guide her. Acknowledging that she was fighting for her life, and those of her comrades, against the greatest warrior on the Planet would have psyched her out. Knowing that she was more likely than he was to tire and make a fatal mistake would have lost her the battle right there and then. So she tried to just let go and move. It would only take one small opportunity for either of them to end the battle. Meanwhile, it was strike, parry, retreat, attack, strike, dodge, strike, duck, strike, leap, turn, strike… over and over.

She wasn’t sure when the buzzing started in her ears. She thought it was just a lack of oxygen and breathed more deeply. She shook her head a few times, but it didn’t go away, and then the whispering started again. The by-now familiar voice grew louder… 

_you are here my love my precious the time is now I give you completion so that you may heal me_

Sephiroth had a momentary spell of lightheadedness. It was gone almost before it registered. A quick internal inventory assured him that he was still fully functional, and he felt fine. Didn’t he? He continued moving automatically… and then it happened again. A stab of adrenaline caused his heart rate to shoot up. It was so rare for him to feel fear that he momentarily lost his concentration. His attention snapped back as Elfe’s sword swooshed by his shoulder; had he reacted a second more slowly he would have been winged. 

But he noticed Elfe shake her head, her eyes looking a bit out of focus. That would have been reassuring if he hadn’t felt that he probably looked much the same at the moment. There was a buzzing vibration in his head, his hearing was doing strange things, his vision was narrowing, yet someone was calling out to him and it was getting more and more audible…

_beloved you have come it is time for completion to restore the balance and dream me whole_

Both opponents were breathing heavily now, more as a result of their personal inner battles than from physical fatigue. Sephiroth’s foot slipped a fraction of an inch; he regained his balance almost instantaneously but it was enough for Elfe to bring her sword around in an overheard arc, forcing him to go down on one knee as he brought Masamune up to block the powerful blow. Their blades locked. Almost on a level with each other, their eyes locked, too, and in that instant time stopped. 

Suddenly it seemed that they were at the center of a massive energy lattice. As it formed around them, they were conscious of thick strands of a tangible current moving between a series of nodes, connecting the two of them to each other and to each of the other points. It pulsed through their bodies, sparkling inward and outward, back and forth, between all the junctions, forming a giant polyhedron of ten intersections with them at the centre. One end of the structure radiated countless shards of light so bright they were almost impossible to look at. At the opposite pole, just outside of the geometric shape, a swirl of all shades of blue and black was gradually coalescing. They watched, spellbound, as it slowly resolved into the figure of the Great Goddess, Her brilliant presence in this world manifested in all Her regalia, regarding them solemnly with a tender little smile on Her lips. 

_welcome welcome dear ones I have been waiting for you_

Out of their bodies, with their core selves merged into one, the entities called Sephiroth and Elfe shared their awestruck confusion. Instantly each perceived the strange experiences the other had been having, and how similar they had been. With this knowledge came a deep distrust and wariness at having been manipulated, and not a little horror at having had their minds and their sanity toyed with. And this was communicated to the Being who faced them. 

_shush shush my children no fear I have shown you what is to come and what is happening even now across this Planet which you call Gaia my body which sustains and nurtures all living things your kind has perverted my generosity and taken my very life’s blood taking and taking with no regard for limits no regard for balance and now the planet is dying soon my bounty will cease my generosity has been unappreciated and taken for granted your greed has worn my patience thin I will not tolerate such disrespect such treatment anymore many lives will end and the rest will suffer beyond comprehension if you do not stop now stop the waste stop the rape stop the destruction there is no more time to wait there is no bargaining there is no ignoring the inevitable I am coming to you now to ask your help to stop this death spiral to teach your fellows to carry the message to them that death is imminent if they do not change their selfish plundering ways now each of you has to help everyone is accountable there will be no exceptions you are each part of the whole and you have forgotten this each of you come together work together and bring the broken pieces together to heal the breech to restore the balance before it is too late you have seen just a few of the trials that are coming I ask that you do not turn your back now but cleave to me cleave to each other and go forth to do my will for the sake of us all_

Elfe/Sephiroth felt the words resonate throughout their being, felt the emotions, felt the love and pain and urgency of the Goddess, and felt their own yearning to be part of the One with Her, to stay in this union, where peace and acceptance were offered, and they could feel it lapping at their souls. Out there was suffering and loneliness and exhaustion, anger and frustration and separateness, endless demands, hands grabbing and voices screaming and phones beeping, and the noise and the wants and the taking never stopped. 

A profound weariness settled over them. 

I can’t. 

_you must_

I can’t.

_you are called_

I won’t.

There was an absolute silence. The Goddess stared at them, and through them, and they could not meet Her eyes. 

I’ll… try.

They were swamped in an overwhelming wave of love, and sadness. Disappointment, and hope. Resignation, and determination.

_I can ask no more_

_yet I will_

_always_

Shame flooded them.

_go_

_go and do what you must_

The light at both ends of the polyhedron grew brighter and brighter. The figure of the Goddess became invisible in it. The energy connections pulsed more strongly, flashing from node to node to node, faster and faster, flashing to them and through them. There was no sense of where they ended and the universe started. They were One, huge and infinite and magnificent, endless and powerful and eternal.

And then they were staring into each other’s eyes, so close they could feel each other’s breath, and feel the fine tremors through the steel that connected them, as each held the other in tension, in balance, in power.

Simultaneously they disengaged, falling back from each other, falling to the hot metal surface of the mako canon, falling back into awareness of their bodies and of their minds and of the world around them. 

Elfe dropped her sword, a hard sob wrenching her, and she sagged, her face in her hands, struggling to gain control of herself. Sephiroth leaned back on his hands, weapon forgotten. His chest heaved as he breathed deeply, his mouth slightly open, and he stared sightlessly at the sky as tears filled his eyes. He swallowed hard around the painful lump in his throat.

After a few minutes, he scrubbed the back of his hand across his face, and sniffed, then pushed himself to his feet. He stood swaying for a moment, his normal grace gone, then took a few steps over to Elfe. Bending, he touched her shoulder; she didn’t flinch, and when she looked up, eyes red and face wet with devastated tears, he held out his hand. She took it and he heaved her up and they stood, hands on each other’s forearms, until they both felt a bit steadier. 

The sun was starting to set now, and Elfe could hardly believe it was the same day. She had been prepared to die today, and yet… perhaps she had, in a way. She could hardly think, let alone speak. The mission had failed. Except… she looked at Shin-Ra’s General, and no words were necessary. The mission wasn’t over. It was just beginning. But would she be allowed to follow it through? And would she have an ally, or an enemy, in this critical fight?

Sephiroth let her go and stepped back. There was nothing else he could do at this moment. How could someone fight against part of themselves? Their quarrel was not with each other. Direct support had been requested and his objective had changed. How he could carry out these new orders he had no idea yet, but he _would_ come up with an operation plan. For now, he would not stand in Elfe’s way. 

Slowly, Elfe bent and picked up her sword, but didn’t sheath it, not quite believing that she could leave unscathed. Edging past Sephiroth, she met his eyes one last time. Most of her wanted to make a break for it while she could, get to safety before anything else happened, but she couldn’t leave without some sort of acknowledgment of what they had just shared. She hesitated, then stripped off her glove and held out her hand, the hand with the materia in it. “You were right. It seems we _were_ fated to meet… and you _have_ carved yourself on my heart, and in my mind. Wherever I may go now, I will never be able to walk away from you, and from this quest we’ve been given. Peace be with you, my brother, until the next time we meet. And if you ever need anything, I will be there for you."

An empty hand, open and offered in friendship, was obvious… as was the materia exposed for Sephiroth to see. It was the final piece of the puzzle that he had sensed in her. They were both _different_, both blessed, or cursed, with something _more_, something that put them _beyond_ humanity, always outsiders, with great power but also great obligation.

That, and Elfe’s gesture and words, reaffirmed the kinship, the sense of oneness that had bonded them together so profoundly a few minutes ago, and that would now never leave them. He reached out and grasped her hand, feeling that connection flow between them again. It was both reassuring and terrifying. “I also wish you peace. Now I know what was missing in my life and in my soul. We may be apart, but still complete, and that will give me strength to carry our mission forward. Until we meet again.”

Elfe/Sephiroth cemented their joint purpose… a shared burden and a shared calling and a shared grace.

The moment had to end. Sephiroth watched as Elfe hurried out of sight into the control room, following the path she must for now, then slowly turned around, sinking down tiredly on the canon again and staring out into the sunset, alone with his heavy thoughts.

**************************

It was pitch black under the sleeping mask and he was warm in his blanket cocoon, when he thought he heard someone calling his name. He jerked awake, listening hard. If those stupid Seconds had the gall to disturb his beauty sleep again, he was going to roast each and every one of them! He heard and sensed nothing, and closed his eyes, snuggling back into his bed, when… there it was again! This time he sat bolt upright, ripping the mask off his face and staring wildly around. His heart beat so hard he thought it would leap out of his chest. A rapturous smile formed on his lips, and he fumbled for the book he had let slip from his hands when he fell asleep, fishing it out of the covers and clutching it reverently to his bosom. Could it truly be...?

_my love my hero come to me I need your help it is time_


End file.
